


Lyra’s Decay

by GardeniasAndMethylene (inebriated)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Bad Parenting, Coming Out, Dysfunctional Family, In depth dialog about sex, M/M, Musical Metaphors to Describe Sex, Rick and Morty are really sweet to each other, Smut, Two Shot, family talks, it's a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inebriated/pseuds/GardeniasAndMethylene
Summary: Morty becomes tired of hiding his relationship with Rick.





	1. Loving You is Hard Work

**Author's Note:**

> Lyra is a constellation you should look up the story if you wanna have some sort of understanding of the title.

      It was hard to call it a secret when Rick was almost certain that everyone knew. Sometimes even he questioned the rest of the family's intelligence with how obvious he and Morty were. The long trips out in space, Morty  _always_ returning with deep hickeys across the expanse of his body; the obvious needy gazes the two would share over the dinner table; Rick's three a.m. drunken trips to Morty's bedroom, anything but subtle as he bumped into doors and walls through the house.

      Rick was well aware that he and Morty should be more careful. He knew that they were risking a lot by barely hiding their relationship. But fuck he was  _Rick Sanchez,_ the smartest, most dangerous man in the multiverse, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted and anyone that said otherwise could suck his dick. 

      Well maybe not, that right was now reserved solely for Morty, who was, in fact, surprisingly good at it. And, although Rick and Morty weren't exactly _hiding_ it, they weren't galavanting around screeching about their love for one another. They never touched each other _that way_ in front of the family, never sat too close, never said anything too inappropriate to one another. So sitting on his workbench in the garage, door to the house locked and the garage's soundproofing feature fully equipped, Rick was confused.

      He sat with his grandson on his lap, smooth creamy legs straddling corduroy pants, auburn curls tilted to the side, the milky expanse of neck an offering to the man leaning over him. Rick had previously been decorating just under the collar of Morty's shirt with deep purpling hickeys like a horny teenager, his grandson in nothing than an oversized tee-shirt and tight blue underwear, as small, soft hands tangled in wiry blue hair.

      "Rick?" Morty straightened his neck, sitting up to stare down at the old scientist who'd began staring blankly at nothing, mind obviously trying to process what his grandson had just said.

      "Yeah, yeah Morty I heard you." Rick tore his gaze away from empty space to meet Morty's nervous stare. "W-Why the hell would we do that?" Rick was still confused, he’s never misunderstood something for this long.

      "R-Rick I'm tired of hiding." Morty's features softened as he spoke, hands moving from Rick's sides to his shoulders. "I'm tired of w-wiping memories, of fucking in alien hotels where I-I don't speak the language and in the ship cause the seat belt chafes me no matter what p-position we're in; I'm tired of only being able to touch you when no one else sees, I'm tired of having to look at you like I don't love you as much a-as I do." Morty took a deep breath, his eyes beginning to burn as he realized that the exhaustion was weighing down on him more than he'd thought. "I'm tired of acting like I shouldn't love you R-Rick. Cause I do and it  _hurts_ when I can't tell you that." Morty looked at the floor, raw emotion too much for him to be able to face his grandfather. His chest ached, heart strained with love and aching with wear, the sacrifices he'd made to be with Rick making him feel heavy.

      Rick stared at his grandson, guilt and love strewn across his features. “I-I know it’s hard.” Rick stopped, unsure where he wanted the conversation to go. He decided to wing it.

      “I-I _know_ it is.” Rick’s crystalline blue eyes delving into warm honey irises. “D’you think I don’t wanna h-hold you on the couch Morty? That I want to erase everyone’s memory every time they see something they shouldn’t? Morty I _love_ you. I love you s-so much baby boy. I would give so much to carry you around and tell everyone that y-you’re mine. I didn’t construct this planet’s societal standards, Morty. It’s not like everyone’ll just roll over if I tell them I frequently fuck my sixteen year old grandson, Morty.” Rick’s eyes fell shut, the hard lines gracing his countenance taught as he took deep, pressured breaths. Rick looked his age.

      Rick didn’t like to talk about emotional things. Nothing could control him, not people, not aliens, and definitely not the chemical reactions in his brain that make him _feel._ But at one point into their relationship Morty felt so insecure about Rick’s feelings that he halfway cut everything off. So now Rick has to talk about his feelings like some lovesick idiot and it’s new and uncomfortable and he's not a fan.

      When Rick opened his eyes again Morty was crying. He’d puffed out his cheeks and allowed a small pout to fall over his lips as a few tears glided slowly toward his chin. Rick could only stare. Morty was so _cute,_ there was no way Morty wasn’t doing it on purpose. 

      “Pouting is f-EUGH-for four year olds M-M-Morty, get over yourself and talk.” Rick let Morty glower at him while he wiped away his tears.

      “F-fine Rick,” Morty huffed in exasperation. “B-but what’s the worst that could happen? If it goes wrong then we can wipe the memory of us telling them.” Morty grasped the sleeves of Rick’s lab coat in his hands, tugging at them for emphasis like the act would persuade his grandfather.

      Rick considered this. But it wasn’t the mild hassle of erasing everyone’s memories that made him hesitant, it was Morty. After all the injustice and immorality the kid had witnessed there was no way he should still have faith in people’s integrity or plain _decency._ Even toward their own family. Rick knew that Morty had been through a lot, had seen so many atrocities that it was a miracle the boy was sane. And Rick knew that the family wasn’t overly kind to Morty, but he didn’t want him to go through anything worse than what he already did. Telling everyone about their relationship would inspire some very unkind responses.

      But if Morty really couldn’t take it anymore Rick would just have to shield him from anything too ill-natured. “Fine, w-whatever you want Morty. If you- you wanna fix what’s not broken w-who am I to tell you no.” Rick resigned himself to resting his forehead on Morty’s collarbones, allowing his eyes to fall shut as he mulled over his decision. 

      Morty wasn’t particularly excited about telling his family, he was just so exhausted because of _everything_. After he and Rick began their relationship he got less and less sleep. Rick would wake him up for adventures, sex, and late night inter-dimensional cable cuddles, which would leave Morty with about three hours of sleep or less; and, the guilt of constantly lying to his loved ones often plagued his dreams, which made those mere three hours even more unpleasant. So Morty wasn’t overly enthusiastic as his hands intertwined with Rick’s hair, but he did feel special because Rick cared about what he wanted. 

      "T-Thank you Rick." Morty craned his neck to the side once again, offering the canvas of his neck for Rick to paint with bruises and bites; these would be unhidden, splayed across a pale field awaiting the fresh bloom of hickeys. But it never came.

      “Y-You think you can train me like- like some kinda dog Morty?” Rick didn’t change his position with Morty as he spoke. “I-I’m the smartest man in the multiverse and you think you c-c-can manipulate me with your body Morty?” 

      Morty straightened his neck and removed his hand from his grandfather's hair, leaning as far back from Rick as he could without falling off his lap. "J-Jeez Rick, I just thought we could start w-where we left off but if you wanna stop I'll just go to my room and get off by myself." Morty hopped off of Rick's lap, making his way toward the garage door with his shirt rising above his boxers as he stretched his arms above his head, a pop ringing throughout the space around him.

      "Morty come here." Rick hadn't moved from his position on his workbench, but he was intently watching Morty as he was about to exit the garage. "Just c-cause I know you're trying to manipulate me doesn't mean I wan-EUGH-ted to stop."

      Morty paused on his path toward the door, toes curling in excitement as he mulled over how he should react. "S-So what do you want from me Rick?" Morty pried, turning to fact his grandfather with the slightest tilt to his head.

      "On the table." Rick jerked his head over toward his cluttered table, pressing a small yellow button on the side that turned the table upside down, none of its contents falling onto the floor.

      Morty wasn't used to having sex in the house. Although the garage was soundproof and Rick had become more attentive when they'd began their relationship, Rick usually only wanted to work when he was in the garage. But it wasn't often that Morty attempted to seduce Rick, let alone to get something that he wanted. Rick thought it was pretty hot, like Morty was some kind of wanton temptress.

      "Y-Yeah," Morty hopped onto the table, legs swinging as he settled with his hands gripping the edge. "Go raw Rick." Morty hummed before he spoke, a certain melodious undertone to the situation, a song of longing and love slipping past his ears, he and Rick made music together, songs only they could here. They were their very own symphony.

      "D-Don't have to tell me twice."

      Rick rose from his seat on the workbench like a conductor's baton before the first movement, steady and sure. He stripped Morty of his shirt, yellow shirt flitting to the ground like a case torn away from its instrument. Fingers playing across his own body in a swift flurry of movement, the jingle of zippers and cloth lulling to the ground as Rick continued with nothing on him but the eyes of his grandson. 

      Rick scanned the surrounding area for lube, plucking a blue bottle from the nearest shelf with a triumphant whistle. "Bend over Morty." Rick waited at the table's side, eyeing his half naked grandson as he hopped off of the cool metal and onto the floor, turning around and pressing his stomach into the surface and spreading his legs for balance.

      As any well practiced symphony does, Rick began to tune his instrument. Lube slicked fingers coaxing out all the right, wrong notes, pitchy whines echoing throughout their very own concert hall. Even though they weren't making the  _real_ music yet, Rick found a certain beauty in in the sharps and flats and dissonant displays that drooled from Morty's lips. The notes swam through his ears and flooded through him, filling his head and his heart, making him feel buzzed and mellowed all at once, like he was about to drown in nothing but the enamoring sounds of love. 

      When pitchy whines calmed into harsh puffs of air it was time for the first movement to begin. An affrettando. Rick had grown impatient, the adagissimo of their song having no pleasant effect on his own personal instrument. He positioned himself, willing and ready to pluck all the right strings in a well rehearsed melody, to blow and belt all the right notes. 

      They started slow, an affanoso that did nothing but leave Rick biting his lip in an effort to hold himself back, to wait for the glorious sforzando that would leave his hips and back aching and sore in the morning. But it was worth it, it was for the music.

      Then he got the signal, a beautiful musical improvisation in which Morty rutted back onto him, a beautiful strain of sharp wet notes stung Rick's ears as he did. Rick's gradual crescendo began, slow and lagging yet a sweet accarezzevolev until it built to a crushing incalzando. Rick and Morty found harmony within each other, both literally and metaphorically, two songs whose pitches mixed and melded perfectly together in a solid interval.

      They continued, Rick playing Morty with a jerking rhythm, drawing out a delectable cacophony of moans and whines, desperate pants and pleas the only lyrics to their melody. Ragged grunts and groans adding a leveled bass to Morty's mezzo-soprano song.   

      It was time for the second movement to begin. Rick's hand moved under the metal table, finding Morty's very own instrument and teasing him with languid legato stokes. He stroked in time with his thrusts, a monophonic rhythm to accompany a purely polyphonic symphony.

      Their hot pants enabling a certain humidity to air throughout the room, encasing them in a warm moist glow, adding to the sweat coating their skin. 

      Growls and moans came to a crescendo, thrusts and strokes became frantic in their pace, everything a desperate attempt at ecstasy. And then it all halted, a caesura encompassing the room before the last note escaped Morty’s lips, a desperate, keening whine, as Rick’s warm seed found it’s way into him.

      Rick stayed paralyzed on top of Morty for a few more moments. He slipped out of Morty with deep breaths, there would be no encore tonight. He stood, staring at his sweaty panting grandson laying on a table with his legs still spread, asshole fluttering at his new found emptiness, brown curls damp and messy as he stared lovingly back. 

      Rick kissed him, urgent and saccharine in his minstrations. Lips clashing and tongues sliding against one another’s in a rough, uncoordinated display of love and need. Until the endorphins came rushing through their systems and Rick collapsed onto the table beside Morty. They turned their heads to face each other, Morty leaning forward so that their foreheads met. 

      “I-I love you Rick.” Morty’s eyes shut as he spoke, too tired to continue conversation. 

       “Yeah M-Morty I-” Rick paused, ogling the light dusting of Morty’s eyelashes grazing his blush ridden, pale cheeks. “Ditto,” Rick gathered his strength, rising from the table with deep breaths, biomechanical enhancements aiding him greatly in his efforts. Rick gathered Morty into his arms, listening as the brunet offered a tired giggle as he was lifted from the table and cradled in his grandfather’s arms. Morty wrapped his arms around Rick’s neck, his head tucked into the crook of the old man’s neck. Sex, booze, and Rick tangled together in his nose. 

      Rick carried Morty out of the garage, both naked and sweaty, bruises and bite marks scattered across supple pale skin. Rick walked toward the living room, heading toward the stairs until he was about to pass the kitchen. 

      “Dad?” Rick halted immediately in his steps. Morty was asleep.

      Beth leaned against the kitchen counter, already visibly drunk, with a wine glass in hand.

      “H-Hey sweetie, Morty had-had a rough time on an adventure. Gonna- Gonna take him to bed.” Rick angled himself and Morty away from the dim kitchen light as he spoke. 

      The duo often came home wearing different clothes, a lot of the time they were tattered and dirty too, but they’d never been seen exiting the garage completely naked and smelling like sex.

      It was 2:47 in the morning and Rick had forgotten that his daughter was a working alcoholic. But he supposed that it didn’t matter all that much if he and Morty got caught now, he’d promised that they’d come out to the family. 

      But not at 2:47 in the morning. Rick didn’t hold any longer for conversation and continued on his was to Morty’s room.

      Rick laid Morty on top of his covers, shuffling over to the closet to get a blanket to lay over him. 

      Rick thumped onto the bed in an exhausted heap, eyes falling shut before he even touched the sheets. 

 


	2. We’ll Call it Family Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the fanfic. ❤️ Everything lowkey goes to shit beware.

      Rick woke up to familiar slightly chapped lips grazing their way up and down his neck. Upon further inspection, Morty was straddling him as he mouthed his way across Rick’s throat. The brunette ground down on his grandfather’s pelvis, a smile fluttering over his features as his eyes met Rick’s. 

      What a way to greet the day.

      “M-Morning Daddy,” Morty purred as he rolled his hips, still naked with love bites spanning across the expanse of his skin. He was half hard, Rick was unsure if it was a morning wood or if Morty had been entertaining himself while Rick was asleep.

      “Hey baby, what- what time is it?” Rick’s hands made their way to Morty’s thighs. Holding Morty in place as he reached over to check the time on his phone. His grandson’s hair was a mess, flat in the back and strewn oddly about the rest of his head. 

      “11:42 Rick,” Morty’s eyes were bright and wide, the deep set bags under them lessened by the unusual amount of sleep they’d received. Rick always slept better with Morty, but nine whole hours was unheard of.

      Rick nodded along in response, captured by the way Morty met his eyes with nothing but warmth. “What day is it M-Morty?” Rick almost never kept track of what day it was. Time is relative, especially to someone constantly traveling through space. Why he needed to know the day Morty had no idea. 

      “Fri-Friday Rick,” Morty bent over, draping himself over Rick and tucking his head in the crook of his grandfather’s neck. A contented sigh fluttered from Morty’s chest when one of Rick’s hands made its way to his hip, and the other began to toy with his bed-head. 

      He leaned into Rick’s touch. Morty felt at  _peace_ like this. Away from the death and betrayal in adventures; away from his family that just seemed not to _care_ ; away from all the worldly pressures that came with just  _existing._ Morty felt whole, fully content to do nothing but lay down a trace the expanse of space across Rick’s bare chest. 

      “Everyone’ll be-EUGH-be home by six Morty. You have about six hours to change your mind.” Rick’s ministrations in Morty’s hair never stopped, the simple gesture pleasant enough to put Morty into a small stupor. 

      Until Rick gave one of Morty’s curls a particularly pronounced tug and Morty finally processed Rick’s words. It took him a moment to remember what Rick was talking about. “I-I’m not gonna change my mind Rick.” Morty continued to trace random patterns across Rick’s chest. 

      “We don’t how they’ll react Morty.” Rick continued to play with Morty’s hair. “What if it doesn’t go how y-you want it to Morty, and I erase everyone’s memories? What then Morty? We’re right back where we started.” 

      “How much do you love me Rick?” Morty’s voice was steady as he spoke, mind made up and focused. 

      Rick cleared his throat, the line of questioning veering out of his comfort zone. But this was important, a potential major change in their lives. It was in his best interest to answer without any snark or passive aggressive remarks.

      “With everything I am.“

      “Enough to leave?” Morty pressed himself deeper into Rick, taking in deep breaths to ingrain Rick’s scent into his being. 

      “Yes,” Rick let his eyes fall shut, having Morty so close just felt _right._

This wouldn’t be their first time leaving earth for a new dimension, and knowing that you weren’t living with your original family came with an odd detachment that made it easier to leave again. The only difference was that if they left again they wouldn’t be going back to earth. It’d just be Rick and Morty. 

      “If we leave again I d-don’t want to change dimensions for a new family.” Morty’s eyes flitted shut as he spoke, guilt seeping into his voice. “I-I-If we have to leave I just want you Rick.” Morty’s voice fell to a whisper. “You and me.”

      Rick loved his daughter, he loved Summer. But Morty was different: Morty couldn’t be replaced. Sure there were other Mortys out there that loved their Ricks, but there was only one of  _his_ Morty. Only this Morty could love him exactly the way he did. Rick didn’t want to live without him, he couldn’t, he loved Morty more than anyone. 

      “Okay.”

***

      Summer was the first to get home, a friend that lived near by agreeing to take her. When she came in through the front door bellowing, "I'm home!" Rick grunted in acknowledgement and Morty yelled out his own hello. Summer hadn't ventured any further downstairs, going straight to her room and closing the door with a reverberating bang. Whether she was upset about something or not no one seemed to care all that much. 

      If she had gone through the dining room and into the living room she would've seen Rick and Morty laying down on the couch watching inter-dimensional cable; Morty splayed between Ricks legs as Rick had his arms wrapped around him. It wasn’t a very platonic position.

      Jerry was the next to enter the house. He'd come in shouting out his greetings, shrugging off his coat and scarf to put on the rack. "I think the interview went great today! They seemed to be really interested in hiring me." Jerry paused for a response, he got none, but continued none the less. "Thought I'd treat myself for a job well done. Gonna get a few new apps on my iPad, the App Store sure is expensive now-a-days!" Jerry began to make his way into the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of the aging cabinet and swiping the orange juice out of the refrigerator. He heard some soft muted mumbling before Rick spoke.

      "J-Jerry you use-useless fuck no one cares. And if you wouldn't have lost your fuck-EUH-ing job in the first place you wouldn't have to get so overexcited for- for some lame ass ninety-nine cent games.”

      Jerry heard a barely audible sigh after Rick finished speaking, it sounded exasperated, but it wasn’t rough enough to have been his father-in-law’s voice. That didn’t matter. Jerry left the orange juice and his glass on the kitchen countertop and sulked his way into his room.

      Finally, at 6:17 P.M, Beth opened the front door. She didn't call out any greetings or yell about her day, just made her way into the kitchen to get started on dinner. She could see the back of the couch from inside the kitchen, only the side of her father’s head was visible to her. “Hey dad,” Beth always allowed a certain softness to seep into her voice when addressing her father. 

      “Hey- hey sweetie,” Rick glanced over at his daughter as he spoke. Beth had gone about pulling the utensils she’d need out of cabinets and off of shelves. She didn’t notice Rick’s gaze shifting to her son, situated in his lap. Nor the muted conversation less than seven feet away from her. “If you don’t mind c-c-EUGH-ould you call everyone into the living room. We need to talk, a uh- family meeting.”

      Beth agreed, a voice in the back of her head praying that her father wasn’t leaving again. She made her way up the stairs.

     “Morty’s already d-down here sweetie!” Rick called after her.

      When Beth heard Rick she was already headed towards Morty’s room. She definitely didn’t see Morty down stairs. Maybe she just wasn’t paying attention.

      With his mother gone up the stairs Morty was left in a dazed state. He stared up at Rick’s chin, his hand drifting upward to feel at his stubble. “I think I should m-move Rick.” Morty didn’t change positions however, his hand never left Rick’s jaw. 

      “Y-You think that sitting in a different spot will make them okay with this Morty?” Rick let out a light scoff, his own hands beginning to massage Morty’s sides. “You really think that’ll help M-Morty?” Rick was clearly sarcastic, though he was attempting to restrain from using too much vulgarity in his speech. The situation felt heavy, pressured.

      “I do,” Morty said, his hand sliding away from the prickly scruff tickling his fingers. Morty tilted his head up, nose brushing against Rick's neck as he placed a soft kiss to his collarbone. "I love you Rick." Morty felt his grandfather shiver. It was nice.

      In spite of all Morty's deficiencies he'd found himself to be very observant. He'd noticed his mother's alcoholism when he was around eight years old. He recognized his father's incompetence when he was ten. He realized that Rick was human when he was fourteen, and he understood that Rick didn't want to be when he was fifteen. Looking back on his childhood Morty found it easy to register how affection starved and neglected it was. He's determined not to let the people he loves go without knowing that he cares. Morty's observant enough to note that yes, not everyone deserves his love, or his care, or him; but, after everything he's seen Morty knows that it doesn't matter what people deserve. So, even if Rick won't say it back, Morty will tell him that he loves him. Because he does, and he wants Rick to know that, he wants Rick to feel that.

      "Yeah M-OUGH-rty," Rick doesn't move as Morty gets up and sits on the opposite side of the couch. About twenty-two seconds after he moves, Morty hears the rest of his family shuffle into the room.

      Rick shifts so that he's sitting up, he leans his head back, let's his eyes fall shut, and braces himself for the mess that he's about to let explode in the living room. Summer sits between he and Morty, whipping out her phone with an agitated huff, fully aware that she'd still be in her room if not for her brother and grandfather.

      Jerry sat in his comfy teal chair, reaching for the remote on the coffee table like he wasn't called downstairs for a reason. Beth tries to ignore this fact as she sits beside her son, her arm resting on the arm of the sofa. She can't get over it, she doesn't know why. She feels like Jerry does everything wrong, she gets too agitated over small things that she should be able to move past.

      "Jerry put the remote down. We're here to talk." Beth knows that she's frowning a little too deeply, that her eyes are a bit too hard and unforgiving. "What'd you call us down here for dad?" 

      Rick never lifts his head up to speak. "Morty has something to say." 

      Morty knew that Rick would make him tell them, which was probably better. He also knew that Rick was throwing a small tantrum because he didn't want to do this. Morty wished that he'd sat next to Rick now. He wanted to grab his hand and listen to him complain about how sweaty and clammy it was. He knew Rick wouldn't let go of it though, he knew that Rick would hold it until Morty took it away.

      Morty spoke when he felt everyone's eyes heating up the skin on his face. "I-I'm uh," he took in a deep breath before he continued, he should've planned this better. "I'm gay." That wasn't true. Morty liked girls. He liked boobs and vaginas, and he found women's underwear to be very erotic. However, Morty did like men as well, not just his grandfather. He'd gotten off to tall guys with veiny cocks and abs before, quite often in fact. Morty decides that he should specify what he means, as he was here to tell his family the truth. "Well no, uh, I'm bi." That wasn't necessarily true either, he'd found plenty of other alien species attractive. "Pan?" Morty glanced past Summer at Rick for help, but Rick was chuckling with his head still tilted back against the couch.

      "So you're confused sweetie, it's okay not to know who you are right now." Beth placed her hand on Morty's knee, trying to offer her son some comfort.  

      "Yeah Morty, you'll figure it out." Summer was still on her phone. She was a little confused as to why Morty would call everyone down to tell them that. After everything he’d went through and seen she'd figured that he wouldn't stress about his sexual orientation by earth standards. Was he gonna go through every species he was attracted to now?

      Jerry didn't say anything, he only offered Morty a soft smile and nodded along with his wife.

      "T-that's not it." Morty heard Rick laugh harder and felt a little more at ease. "I-I'm uh in an, I'm in a relationship with someone." Rick’a laughter died down, interested in how Morty was gonna get it out.

      "Well who is it son? Someone nice and on earth I hope." Jerry finally spoke, not entirely sure how he felt about all this.

      "Rick."

      There was about fifteen seconds worth of silence.

      "Dad? Morty's trying to tell you something." Beth bent forward to look at her father, she wasn't sure if he'd some how fallen asleep or not as he'd never once moved from his position.

      "No he's not sweetie." Rick didn't look back at Beth, he still sat with his head angled up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

      "I-I'm in love with Rick." Morty closed his eyes now, trying not to slump back against the couch cushion because that would make him look defeated. And Morty couldn't look defeated because he couldn’t look ashamed.

     "What?" Summer now understood why she was called out of her room. Morty didn't care about the family knowing his sexual orientation, he wasn't on earth enough for it to matter.  

      "What the hell?" Jerry sat up in his chair, his eyes searching for Beth's with a hard calculating gaze. 

      "A-and he loves me too," Morty's voice was beginning to become a bit squeaky with nerves but he held his ground and still didn't sink into the sofa.

     "Yup," came Rick's sole contribution to the conversation.

      "You're in a relation-" Beth paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "You're in a relationship with your grandfather?"

      Morty was unsure if it was a question or not but he nodded none the less. 

      Beth had taken a lot of bullshit throughout her life. She took it when her father left. She took it when Jerry insisted that she keep the baby. She took it when they got married. She took it when her father came back and took over their lives. Beth lets things happen, to her and around her. But now she was afraid and confused, she sat stunned on the couch, retching her hand away from her son.

      Jerry flung himself from his seat, standing up with a disgusted expression. "No. _No_. I know you let him do whatever he wants Beth, but not this." Jerry crossed the room, planting himself in front of Rick, who was still leaning back with his eyes closed. "I don't care how smart you are. This is my house and I won't let you do this to my son!" Jerry jabbed his finger into Rick's chest as he finished, which did get the scientist to move from his bored stance.

     Rick grasped Jerry's hand with his own grip. It was a little too tight but not enough to be considered painful. "Morty wanted to tell you. I-I didn't care, Jerry. Why don't you think about how your son feels in-instead of taking your confusion out on me, huh?" Rick sat up further onto the edge of the sofa. "He wasn't finished talking asshole."

      Morty cleared his throat at that, fully expecting a reaction along those lines. But it didn't matter what his parents said, he wasn't asking for permission, he was giving an ultimatum.

      "I wanted to tell you because I'm tired of hiding." Morty met his mother's eyes. They were cold and blank. "I'm so tired." He looked at his father who had moved away from Rick, standing off to the side of the room staring back at him. "You can accept it or we'll uh," Morty looked at his mother again, he knew this would have a greater impact on her. 

      "Or you'll leave." Summer finished for him, there was no judgement in her gaze, she'd witnessed many of the same atrocities that Morty had and understood the insignificance it would pose for her to get upset. Other than that, she was unsure how she felt. 

      Beth looked broken. Her gaze had met the floor, her hands were shaking, and the blood had drained from her face. She was panicked, malfunctioning, there was too much new, devastating, information coming at her at once. Her father might leave again. Sure he brought absolute chaos with him when he'd arrived, but her life had been so  _dull_ before. And her son. She didn't know if her dad had done something to Morty or if this was completely consensual. Did it matter? What could she do in the face of Rick? He could destroy the planet if he wanted to, he could do what ever he wanted. Was that what this was, some overdone display of power?

     "Do you just want to show us how much control you have dad?" Beth's hands cradled her head, her eyes stung. "You don't have to do this we- we're aware of how much power you have over us, we  _know_. Please,  _please please please,_ don't do this to us. Don’t do this to Morty." Beth didn't know what to do. She halted in her ministrations briefly, and inhaled. Her movements were almost robotic, a subconscious need surfacing as she rose from the couch and went to the kitchen. There was no way she’d get through this sober.

      "I don't want you guys to go," Summer held her little brother's hand, looking into his eyes as if she could search his soul. "But I get it." Summer looked at Rick, after she'd seen him kill for the first time, after she'd seen him step through one of his signature green portals she knew. She knew there would never be anything she could do to stop him. She knew it didn’t matter what she said, or what she thought. "I'm not that surprised, you two were kind of obvious." Summer rose from her seat and went up to her room. She'd left her phone on the couch. No matter how she tried to appear, Summer was just as impacted as everyone else.

      Morty wordlessly closed the gap between he and his grandfather, sliding across the couch. The friction caught at his shirt and exposed the beginnings of his chest and his shoulder.

      Morty heard his mother gasp before she let out a pained cry, some wine sloshing onto the floor. Beth had reentered the room just in time to witness the hickeys, bites, and bruises that her father had decorated her son with.

      "You brainwash my son and you _rape_ him?" Jerry's voice bellowed throughout the house, Beth gulped at her Barolo, a wine she'd promised herself to save for only the most important of occasions.

      Jerry lunged at Rick, only to be shoved away by his son. Morty was not okay with where his parents accusations were headed. "Rick has never raped me." Morty shoved his father further away with emphasis, just noticing that Rick had stood from the couch. "Every single thing that we've done is consensual." Morty's voice was raising now, the very thought that someone would accuse Rick of doing that to him offended him. "All of it."

      Rick hummed in laxed agreement, the situation still felt like an out of body experience to him. He couldn't imagine willingly going through this for anyone other than Morty.

      "Rick didn't brainwash me. H-h-he has no reason to, he could get rid of me for a different Morty if he wanted." Morty sat back down, standing up had begun to feel awkward. 

      The thought left a bitter taste in Rick’s mouth.

      "Beth we can't just-“ Jerry paused, it felt like everything was crashing down on top of him. What was this? This wasn’t normal, other families didn’t have to deal with this. “-What?" Jerry's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, the powerlessness of his situation was beginning to sink in. Jerry was considerably pathetic, the most human of everyone in the family. But he was nothing if not resilient. When dogs had just about enslaved earth Jerry made it through alive. When he was dragged to an intergalactic wedding, only for it to become a shoot-out, Jerry survived. When aliens began staying on earth, only for everything to go to shit Jerry had  _crawled_ to safety. He did what he thought was necessary in order to make it out alive. But what could Jerry do now? Crawl out the house and never come back? What would that accomplish? "What am I supposed to do huh? Is this not enough Beth? Is this not reason enough to kick him out?"

      Beth looked up from the ground, her husband we pale and sweaty now. She imagined his entire body being uselessly clammy. Which somehow managed to get on her nerves. "Is that what you're thinking about  _now_ Jerry? I valued my father over you and now this is  _my_ fault? What are we gonna do Jerry? What can we do?" Beth let the bottle reach her lips once more as she finished. She basked in Jerry's silence, her favorite moments had always been when he'd just  _shut up_.

      "If we le-EUGH-ave we're not coming back." Rick finally entered the conversation, sitting down on the sofa again next to Morty, leaving little to no space between them. 

      "How many times did you fuck my son dad?" The wine was beginning to get to Beth, she'd downed over half the bottle by now. "Is your grandkid a good lay? Did you leave me and mom cause she wouldn't take it up the ass?" Beth was crying as she spoke, venom flying past her lips as tears spilled past her cheeks.

      "Too many times to count, Morty’s surprisingly pretty great. A-and you know that's not why I left." Rick wanted to speak as little as possible. He'd still answer questions though, even if it was just so that he could be an asshole.

      Morty couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride at Rick’s words, the tips of his ears beginning to redden. But the blood drained from his face when his mother spoke again. 

      “What about you Morty?” Beth glared up at her son. “How often do you ask Grandaddy to take you to his spaceship huh, Morty? Is that how you _help_  him in the garage? You get home at three a.m because you let him fuck you right? Right, Morty?” Beth was still crying.

      This is what Rick had feared. He knew about his daughter’s emotional instability. He was almost sure that she’d inherited it genetically. Rick had expected her to blame Morty. Rick knew she idolized him too much for her to just be mad at him. 

      Morty didn’t respond. He only felt that familiar exhaustion creeping its way through him. He sighed, suddenly annoyed at his mother. If he _was_ being abused is this how she would react? She would victim blame him? 

     “A-are you serious?” Morty still looked tired. He was too tired. “This is what you wanna do right now Mom? Well f- _fuck_ you. I’m not doing this with you. Not like this.” Morty had underestimated his parents’ bad parenting. 

      Rick looked down at his daughter, crumpled on the floor bringing the wine bottle to her lips once more. He rolled his eyes. Rick turned to Jerry, staring wide eyed and hurt at his wife. Rick hated to admit it, but Jerry might’ve been a better parental figure than Beth. 

      “Did you just blame _Morty_ Beth?” Jerry took three steps toward his wife, bending over and snatching the wine out of her hands. “Is this really the time to be drunk Beth? Really, now?” Jerry was yelling. “It can never just be Rick’s fault can it Beth? He can do no wrong right?” Jerry was hysterical in his actions.

      Well maybe Rick was wrong. Jerry didn’t really care about Morty, he just wanted Rick to be at fault for _something_. Like everything in his life would fall into place if Rick was in the wrong.

      It was obvious that Morty wasn’t responding to the conversation anymore. Rick glanced his way and met the same hazel eyes that looked at him with nothing but warmth. Morty looked fatigued now, like he’d just had everything sucked out of him. He still offered Rick a small smile. 

      “Make a decision.” Rick brought himself back into the conversation. He’d have to talk now that Morty was basically out of commission. 

      Beth and Jerry snapped their gazes to Rick. Beth spoke first. 

      “What?”

      “W-we stay and you deal with it or we leave and you never see us again.” Rick reiterated. 

      Beth thought the choice was obvious. What good would it do if they left? She couldn’t monitor them, couldn’t at least try to protect Morty. And her father would be gone again. 

      “Okay.” Beth dug the base of her hands into her eyes. “Stay,” Beth was still crying.

                            ***

      Morty had woken up to an empty bed before he’d slipped on his pajamas and gone downstairs. Where Rick had disappeared to he didn’t know. 

      Morty slipped into the kitchen, the smell of bacon gathering his attention. He saw Rick hunched over the griddle, a fork in his hand flipping over grease slicked bacon. Morty walked over, wrapping his arms around his granddad’s midsection and resting his head on his back. “Y-you weren’t there when I woke up.” Morty noted, feeling the movement of Rick’s arms as he flipped another piece of bacon. 

      “No shit M-Morty. I’m fixing breakfast.” Rick placed the fork off to the side and turned around, hugging Morty from the front. With his hands clasped around Morty’s waist, Rick bent down, capturing Morty’s lips in a soft morning kiss. 

      “Mhmm,” Morty hummed into the kiss.  Rick was trying for him. Trying to be more thoughtful, show that he cared. Morty felt utterly content. 

      “Eww,” Summer made her way toward the refrigerator, pausing to ogle at the bacon on the griddle. “It’s not like anyone else would’ve wanted some bacon.” Summer drifted over to the sizzling four strips of pork, effectively interrupting her brother and grandfather. “Really nice piece of PDA to go with your bacon guys.” She went back to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk, gathering what she needed for cereal.

      Rick and Morty went back to tending to the bacon, Rick now posed behind Morty hugging him from behind, his head resting on top of Morty’s.

      Beth came into the kitchen next, she didn’t speak, didn’t look at them. Beth grabbed a box of wine and a glass and exited the kitchen. 

      Morty didn’t feel as tired.

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I SAID IT WOULD BE OUT SOON IM SORRY IM A LIAR. It took a while but it’s here and I’m pretty satisfied with it. If you are too then please comment, kudos, and give a warm smile. ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot but I took too long to write it so now it’s a two shot. Promise I’ll have the second chapter up really soon. Comments, kudos, and a warm smile are always appreciated ^_^ ❤️


End file.
